


History is Written by the Victors

by PlagueOfSquid



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fantastic Racism, Gen, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Odin this is really fucked up, Panic Attacks, kinda thorki if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 08:12:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16193579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlagueOfSquid/pseuds/PlagueOfSquid
Summary: Loki was indeed smirking as he set down his pen. “Very well. Since my brother seems to have confused the history of the Jotnar with a lullaby, I shall refresh his memory.” He stood and his hands went to the same familiar place their mother’s did so often, folded in front of him. “Where shall I begin?”The tutor looked to Odin for guidance. “With Ymir,” their father said. “Begin at the beginning.”





	History is Written by the Victors

Of all days, their father had to pick today to check in on their studies. The Norns must have been having a laugh about this.

They had been studying in the library like normal, Loki with his pen scratching away and Thor… well, he knew his strengths didn’t lie between the pages of books, so it was understandable that he didn’t try quite as hard as his brother. No point really, not for a natural warrior like him. In another few decades he’d be old enough to go to war and then none of this would matter. But for now he was trapped like a pressed flower, buried beneath the centuries upon centuries of history that his parents expected him to somehow commit to memory.

It was their tutor’s fault really; he was simply too boring to hold any sane man’s attention. Always droning on and on about battles that had already been fought and victories that could no longer be won. What was the point? There was no glory in studying, no honor or valor or even the slightest hint of courage. When Thor was All-father, the first thing he would do was rescue all children from learning their own history. Why did they need to store that knowledge in the minds of young people when books could remember for them?

Of course, Loki would disagree.

History was the one of the few areas where Loki surpassed his older brother. He had a knack for recalling details and what their tutor described as ‘an analytical mind’, the sort that excelled at meaningless little tasks like remembering dates. Loki had become somewhat of an expert when it came to stories of the past. And normally, that was fine. Their father didn’t have much time for dusty old books either and Thor’s frankly abysmal marks tended to go unnoticed.

Except that wasn’t an option right now, because Odin had decided to watch their lesson. Today of all days, the day after Thor had spent a whole night chasing after something Fandral swore was a ghost. It had been a rather large white rabbit. Still impressive, just not supernaturally so. And very hard to catch.

So when Odin entered the library, Thor had his head down on the table, just resting his eyes and definitely not about to fall asleep. It was peaceful, right up until the point where the tutor knocked on the table and made his head ring with noise. Then he was wide awake.

“Thor,” the tutor said, his voice as dry as ever. “Perhaps you could tell your father about today’s lesson?”

It was hard to see through the fog of sleep, but Thor tried to concentrate. “The lesson? Could you… uh…” Okay, so maybe his little rest had lasted for most of the afternoon. Thor stared down at his hands and he just knew Loki was smirking at him. There was no getting out of this. “Could you please… uh… remind me of the lesson’s topic please?”

The tutor’s lips formed a thin line and Thor hated this kind of anger. Rage was meant to be expressed with sword and shield, not wrapped up tight and left to ferment. “Loki, it seems Prince Thor requires some assistance.”

Loki was indeed smirking as he set down his pen. “Very well. Since my brother seems to have confused the history of the Jotnar with a lullaby, I shall refresh his memory.” He stood and his hands went to the same familiar place their mother’s did so often, folded in front of him. “Where shall I begin?”

The tutor looked to Odin for guidance. “With Ymir,” their father said. “Begin at the beginning.”

Loki nodded and began to recite the story. “Ymir, the father of all Jotnar, was born into the vast nothingness of Ginnungagap in the days before days, his body formed at the point where the ice of Niflheim and the flames of Muspelheim met. The creature was neither a man nor a woman but both. From his sweat sprang the Jotnar, a fearsome race of giants, malformed in their father’s image.”

He wasn’t jealous. Thor definitely wasn’t jealous, not when he excelled at so many activities that Loki didn’t, but there was a competitive spark in him that refused to fade. So while he didn’t want his brother to fail… he did.

“The Jotnar possess fearsome strength, but precious few other gifts. They are as cold as the ice of their birth and naturally inclined to violence. For this reason, they left Niflheim and subjugated the neighboring realm of Jotunheim, slaughtering the population down to the last child. The Jotun bloodthirst was only quenched by the Aesir, who halted their evil desires with sword and shield, confining them to the wasteland of Jotunheim. This was the first great war against the Jotnar.”

Odin looked at Loki with something that could quickly become pride and there just wasn’t much of that to go around. Sometimes he wondered if this was what his father wanted, the two of them fighting like cats over the scraps of admiration. Sometimes he even thought it cruel. But those thoughts were wrong. Odin was his father and more importantly, he was the All-father. He didn’t make mistakes.

“In this conflict, the Aesir was led by the Great King Bor Burison, the Architect of Asgard and her first Lord. The Jotnar remained divided under tribal feuds and the former High Chief Thrudgelmir, he who had sought to drench the realms with blood, was long since slain. His son was chosen to lead, the petty and jealous Bergelmir. Unable to look beyond the treasures of the Aesir, Bergelmir led a reckless charge into his enemy’s front lines at the Battle of Breaking Frost and was slaughtered along with countless others of his kind.”

Sometimes Thor wondered how he could really be Loki’s brother. He lacked the clever wit and the sharp tongue and so much else that a king needed to be great, to be remembered by history with reverence like their grandfather. There wasn’t much Thor was good for outside of battle. He would have made a much better second son than a first.

“This victory ended the Jotun threat for a time and the Aesir returned to the fledgling Asgard. However, they were unaware of the sinister machinations taking place on Jotunheim, the creation of the great treasure known as the Casket of Ancient Winters. While the Aesir were briefly divided along political lines, a raiding party of Jotnar traveled to Midgard and massacred her helpless mortal inhabitants.”

He couldn’t even use seidr, for Hel’s sake. Loki was leagues beyond anyone else his age and Thor couldn’t perform the simplest of spells. It wouldn’t be a problem for a normal warrior, but a king was expected to wield all the powers of Asgard, not just its weaponry.

“In retaliation for this crime, Bor again declared war on Jotunheim, seeking to wrest the realm from the hands of the unworthy Jotnar. The noble king called for the head of Laufey, the leader of these raids, a cruel Jotun who did not hesitate to kill mortal nor Aesir. This war was noble, but proved more difficult than anticipated as the Asgardian forces were unaccustomed to the harsh cold of that icy realm. The Jotnar set upon them in the pass of Helfang and Bor was slain. He died surrounded by the corpses of a hundred giants.”

Loki would be a much better choice. But for some reason, their father couldn’t see that. He pushed Thor harder and harder, trying to force him into the role of crown prince. The throne was an honor, but not an honor he particularly wanted.

“Rule fell to Odin Borson, already an accomplished warrior and wise beyond his years. Under his strong hand, Asgard was able to develop a magical ward against the cold and the war was won. Odin himself slew Laufey and all of his kin. From then on, the Jotnar were given Asgardian law and taught justice.”

The story was finished and Loki was practically beaming. Odin gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Well done. Perhaps your brother can learn from your example.”

—

The first Thor heard of it was a crash.

The walls on the Statesman were thin and Loki had chosen a cabin right next to his, making some excuse about it simply being the best of the available options. It wasn’t. Thor knew why he’d really chosen that cabin. Loki was afraid of sleeping near the other refugee Asgardians, which was a smart move. They hadn’t been too happy with him after the initial commotion died down and nobody’s lives were in danger.

According to the ship’s clock, it would have been night if they were still on Asgard, if there was still an Asgard to be on. Thor had known being a king was hard work, but he hadn’t thought it was quite this hard. They were a few days out and work was still being done to reunite separated families and account for the dead, a most thankless task. But it was his duty, no matter how badly he wished to avoid that conversation with a worried mother or a grieving husband.

But right now he didn’t have tragic news to deliver. It was late and Heimdall had insisted that Thor retire to his cabin and sleep. He hadn’t slept for a few days, far too busy, and he didn’t really have energy to protest. So here he was, but he still couldn’t sleep, not while he was this curious.

It probably wasn’t the right thing to do, but Thor followed the sound to Loki’s door and when he knocked, there was no answer. He was only checking to make sure Loki wasn’t in danger, he tried to tell himself, but he knew that wasn’t true. Loki could easily handle his own business, probably better than Thor could, and this was most likely just a dropped bottle anyway. He was worrying too much. But Asgard lay in smoldering ruins and he should be allowed to worry too much right now of all times.

The door was unlocked and Thor didn’t hesitate to open it. There weren’t many secrets left between them, not after the moment they had realized this long nightmare was over and they were really, truly reunited. That moment had left no room for secrets or thoughts at all, just adrenaline and overwhelming relief.

Loki sat on the floor, surrounded by broken glass. He looked dazed.

All at once, Thor became a warrior again. Mjolnir was long gone, but he still had his fists. Whoever had attacked Loki would be torn apart with his bare hands. Thor could only hope it hadn’t been another Asgardian. His brother certainly wasn’t popular, but he had been the one to arrive with a vessel large enough to save this many refugees. It had been made clear that he was under Thor’s protection. Surely no one would…

And then he looked a shard by his feet and saw his own face staring back. The large mirror hanging on one wall was smashed, the frame ringed with jagged teeth. And Loki sat in the middle of it all, holding his head in his hands. But he wasn’t stunned, he was crying.

“Brother, is something the matter?” Thor asked, and the mirror shards crunched under his shoes as he came closer.

Of course it was. Loki wouldn’t cry over nothing. He barely even cried over all the somethings in their lives that should be cried over, he wasn’t about to break down out of nowhere.

The room was cold, far colder than it had any right to be. Even in the void of space there was warmth, the heat that came from shoving the remaining population of Asgard together in one ship. It shouldn’t be cold, but it was. Even here, warmth didn’t reach Loki like it should.

Of course it didn’t. Loki raised his head at the sound of footsteps and his skin was pale blue, like the frost giant he was. There were tears in his blood red eyes and he looked at Thor with such shame it was hard not to leave without another word. Loki didn’t want him here, didn’t want him to see something so embarrassing. Didn’t want his brother to see his true skin.

Loki buried his face in his hands again and let out a sob. It had been so long since Thor had heard him cry, since they were kids and he hadn’t known how to hide it. But now he was crying, little gasps and whimpers and so much raw hurt.

Thor put a hand on his shoulder, grimacing at the cold. “Did something happen?”

His brother sniffed and struggled to take a deep breath, trying to force away his tears. “No… it’s just…” He shook his head. Whatever he was searching for was nowhere to be found. Thor brushed the mirror shards out of the way with his foot and sat down next to him.

Loki stared at his hands like they were something repulsive, his breathing faster and faster until it was just panting. He looked like he was going to be sick. “Brother, I… I…”

There was blood on Loki’s hands, Thor could see it as he clutched at his head like it was about to burst. He had smashed the mirror himself after seeing his own reflection. It wasn’t fair. Sure, Loki wasn’t the best person in the nine realms, but this was such a cruel punishment for the Norns to give.

“Shh.” Thor grabbed his hands and held them tight, not even stopping to think about the burning cold of his brother’s skin. “Breathe, Loki. I need you to breathe.”

All he got in response was a nod and a shuddering breath, just one and then back to frantic, shallow gasps. It wasn’t working. This was like watching Loki fall all over again, letting go in slow motion and falling, falling into the vast nothingness below him. “Hush. Everything is alright.”

It wasn’t. It was cruel, what their father had done. Cruel and thoughtless, raising Loki as an Aesir when he wasn’t. Odin had done a lot of cruel things, Hela was proof of that, and this wasn’t the worst of them. But now as Thor held his brother and listened to his ragged breathing, he couldn’t imagine anything worse.

They stayed like that for a while, long enough for Thor’s hands to go fully numb. The frostbite would hurt later, but that didn’t matter. Thor couldn’t bring himself to care. He was focused on the rhythm of Loki’s heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest, settling into a regular pattern as his panting calmed into sobs.

“I wish we had known from the start,” Thor said. That was the worst part, all those years of ignorance. Now he understood that. “I know how you feel. Asgard was built on blood and bone and I was never even told.”

It took him a second to notice that the sobs had stopped. Instead Loki was laughing, a bitter, cold laugh. It was hard to listen to and more than anything, Thor wanted to end it. He grabbed Loki by the shoulders and forced his brother to look at him.

Loki wore a mocking grin, but it wasn’t even close to a real smile. His eyes burned with frantic energy. “Don’t you remember your lessons, Thor? Tell me, what did the Jotnar do to earn their realm? They slaughtered every man, woman, and child on Jotunheim to sate their natural bloodlust.”

Contrary to what his brother thought, Thor wasn’t stupid. He knew the truth of history, the very lie at the heart of those old books. They were written by the victors. “You know that isn’t true. The Jotnar are not monsters.”

_“Then why did father allow me to believe they were?!”_

Thor let go of his brother and sat there in stunned silence, like he was expecting Odin himself to answer the question. It was true. Their father had known what Loki was from the beginning and he had still allowed him to learn the same lies about his own people as all children on Asgard. Encouraged it, even. Praised him for repeating them. “Oh gods…”

“You have no idea how I feel,” Loki said, hollow and bitter like the winter winds. “Father wasn’t honest with you either, but he never lied about who you are.”

He was right. As much as it hurt to realize that he hadn’t really known his father, at least Thor had known himself. At least he hadn’t been taught self-hatred as part of his basic education.

All of that bright desperation was gone and Loki just looked tired. “I wonder when he planned to tell me. Or was I supposed to spend my whole life playing pretend?”

As much as Thor wanted to argue, he couldn’t, not after what he’d seen in Asgard. Not after the murals of their father side by side with Hela. They had all been playing pretend, Odin most of all, raising his sons in a happy little lie that made conquerer into All-father. He had been the victor who wrote the history books, wrote their stories as well, wrote the world as he wanted and never taught them any different.

And yet, Thor still loved him.

Maybe he was being childish, but he couldn’t hate his father. He couldn’t turn his back on all those memories like Loki could. Despite everything, Odin was still his father and Thor would always love him, just like how he would always love his brother even as they tried to strangle each other. Maybe that was what he’d been raised to do, to love no matter what, the perfect forgiveness for his father’s sins.

Loki looked at Thor expectantly and when he received no answer, his face soured. “I guess none of that matters to you. After all, you kept fighting for him after you learned the truth about me. Even now you work to preserve his memory.”

He had and he was. Asgard no longer needed to exist. It would be better to send the refugees their separate ways and give up on his father’s golden city. But Thor had chosen not to. He had taken the throne when there was no longer a throne to be taken, when it had to be carved out of memories and grief. Why had he not let the lie burn along with everything else?

Because there was still good in it, even if it was forged in deceit.

Thor had not fought for Odin Borson the conquerer, the man who won his fortune in blood and called that peace. He had fought for Odin All-father the good, the lie his father had pretended to be. And even if it had been untrue, it didn’t have to stay that way. He could be the king he used to think their father was. It had never been about Odin himself. He had fought for the idea of Odin and that was worth saving.

The words echoed in Thor’s head as they had many times before. This time he said them aloud, tracing out the memory with his lips. “I didn’t do it for him.”


End file.
